AbneGates

We, enlarging, insinuate the rats.
All through the side-streets awkward
Personalities resharpen their credentials
Toothing conscription over
Happy-like self demarcations
Of the what’s-in-fashionable bible’s
Pleasant recreations of a you-baby

Attitude and other inklinged overhangs.

What a March-belly reach around. Get your teeth
Ready for the left-overs

It’s all inside, it’s true to the bit,
The entrance and the squalor of
Abnegation and doubt you pegged on me,

The chewed on wood of my self interest parade
loosens in the hightide.

It’s true rats. I made it all up
And when the waters rose you came
Scurrying to remind me
How bourgeoisie my hut looks.